


17/03/16

by BleedingBishop



Series: Lost And Found Mystrade Drabbles [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, M/M, Pre-Relationship, ill trained pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-16 02:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingBishop/pseuds/BleedingBishop
Summary: Reupload of my writings in the LostandFoundMystrade's drabble collection.Originally posted 17/03/16





	17/03/16

“Merawo~”

Greg grinned manically.

“Hello you horrible creature, come to piss on my carpet again?” He stood up from the sofa quickly and slammed the window shut before that damned furry menace got in again. The cat would descend from the new tenant’s rooms upstairs, down the ivy-covered trellis running down the outside of the building, and onto his window sill.

Now, Greg was not against cats, they were perfectly lovely for those who did like them, but this hellion beast disguised as a cat was testing his patience.

The first time it peed on the living room carpet he forgave it, grudgingly.

The second time there was no forgiveness.

The third resulted in the cat being put in the hall for it to make its merry way back upstairs.

The fourth time the cat was lucky it went out the door and not the window.

And Greg had no idea how it got in. He closed all windows before he left for work, and it would be sat in his home, meowing to be let out as if it were his fault the bloody thing was in there.

Greg really hated that cat.

______________________________________________________________

“Not looking too bad, ‘trade.” He murmured as he looped the black satin bow tie around his neck.

Tonight was the Policeman’s Ball, and despite all begging to the contrary, Greg had been invited, which is to say told to go and not to cause a fuss about it. So, two weeks ago he had taken his Tux (a classic piece that he invested in knowing how very little use it would get) to a tailor to get it, surprisingly, taken in.

He wouldn’t pretend that wasn’t a little ego boosting.

Apart from his shoes, he was looking pretty good. A bit of gel on his hair, and voila, ready to leave. He left the bathroom mirror and made his way down the hall to the open living room and doorway.

“Mewrarow!~”

Greg glared at the cat.

“How the hell did you get in? Again.”

He kept his eyes on the thing as it took its sweet time crossing the living room, over the carpet, and then beyond to the door. Greg, glad that he had no reason to clean up cat urine before he left, turned and grabbed his wallet and keys off the coffee table.

“Mewraor~”

“No. Please, G-d No.”

Greg stood stock still as the cat sat on top of his shoes.

“Here kitty kitty kitty. Please, please, don’t piss in my shoes.” Greg slowly crept forward, bent low so as not to try and scare the thing.

“That’s it, good kitty.” Greg nodded encouragingly as the cat stood and made to move towards him, before it squatted, and proceeded to indeed wee on his only pair of formal shoes.

“NO! RIGHT, THAT IS IT I HAVE HAD IT WITH YOU!” He stormed forward, picked up the cat and without shoes or cares, marched out of his home and upstairs.

______________________________________________________________

Mycroft had just put away the cleaning supplies when a riotous baning on his door echoed through. Standing, he put the cloths in the kitchen as yet another round of knocking sounded, and walk over to the door.

“Oh hell no, you take your demonic feline away I don’t care if you fucking sue me for imaginary animal abuse you put your damned cat near me I will skin it and wear it as a pair of gloves!”

He attempted to slam his door closed, but a socked foot jammed itself between the wood and its frame, and a squawk of pain had Mycroft pulling the door open again.

“W-what do you mean my cat? This tiny fuck is yours.” The man, who in his well-fitting formal wear was quite… dashing, if his mouth were put to more use than just swearing. For example, pressed against his own.

‘Then again, that is a little hypocritical considering the tirade you just let loose.’

“No, I can assure you it is not. If I were to own a cat I would not allow it to continually excrete on my sofa.”

“You too, hey? This cat just pissed in my shoes.”

“My apologise, for your shoes and my slamming the door on your foot.” Mycroft crossed his arms over his apron and gripped his biceps comfortably.

“Nah, not as if I’m gonna have any shoes to try and fit them in any way, - So if you don’t own this blasted thing, why does it keep crawling down from your flat?” Greg asked. The cat had now decided that it wanted to get down, but with his new allies door open and the smell of cleaning fluid softly emanating he didn’t want to risk the cat running back in and defecating. Again.

“I always show the cat the kitchen window. I suppose it climbs down my window sill and down the ivy trellis to your flat.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought too - only I thought you were letting it out on purpose.”

“No, and I am sorry for the trouble it caused you none the less.”

“Cheers, but who does own-” Greg started, but the cat had decided that chat wasn’t his plan for the evening, and lept out of his arms to scurry down the stairs.

“Follow it, it could lead us to who owns it.” Mycroft said, quickly slipping off one of his own shoes to prop open his door and took off down the stairs, Greg following a moment later.

______________________________________________________________

Mycroft drew himself up to his full height, and without waiting to see if his neighbour had caught up, knocked sharply on the door of Tennant C.

“Yes?” Said a woman in her late forties, thick blonde hair pulled away from a heart-shaped face and neat eyebrows raised in enquiry.

“I believe this is yours.” Mycroft motioned down to the cat that was happily winding itself around her ankles.

“Yes, she is. Is there a reason you… brought her home?”

“Well,” Mycroft felt his brother in arms fall into place behind him, and continued “, She has been taking refuge in both our separate flats upstairs, and by refuge, we mean she has been urinating all over our belongings.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t let her do that. She’ll pick up bad habits.” The woman said cheerfully as if she were talking to a pair of reception children. Mycroft’s eyebrow twitched.

Feeling the man behind him motion to start talking, Mycroft carried on.

“It is not a matter of us letting her, as is a matter of you having her in the first place. I have just moved in, you see, and so have just gone through a lot of detailed agreements to get this flat in such a nice area of London, as I am sure you and my companion did as well. As such, you would be more than aware that animals are not allowed. Now, we could easily tell the landlord that you have been harbouring this… thing under her roof, but we have no desire to start trouble. What we would like, if for you to keep your cat in your flat, and if that is not an option, keep her away from the building altogether. If we find her in either of our rooms, I shall be filing a complaint with the most detailed description of how your cat has soiled my sofa, and my first edition M. R. James novel, of which I paid more than £2000 for, and would have quite easily sold it for double. Good Evening, Madam.” He finished with a flourish and walked up the stairs once more.

Greg watched the woman, who was in mild shock at the verbal lashing she had just received before she turned to look at Greg.

Not knowing what else to say, he crossed his arms, nodded crisply, and ran back up the flight of stairs to his floor, where the other man was waiting.

“Woah certainly showed her,… Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“Oh, yes, Mycroft, Mycroft Holmes.” He raised his hand to shake, and Greg took the large palm in his own.

“Greg Lestrade.”

“A pleasure.” Mycroft released his grip, and Greg smiled.

“You too - but seriously, I don’t think I will ever see that thing again. The nerve, looking down her nose at us.”

“And good riddance. I’m glad she didn’t look down, though, I dare say my warning wouldn’t have been so effective if she realised we had a shoe between the two of us.” The pair looked down to see Greg’s silk dress socks, and Mycroft’s bare feet on the tile with one in a soft loafer, its partner up another floor keeping his door open still.

“Oh, g-d, yeah, I’m still shoeless.” Greg rubbed his palms over his eyes before polite coughing had him looking back at Mycroft.

“What size are you?”

“Huh?”

“Shoe size?”

“10, why?”

“I happen to also be size 10.” A moment later, and Greg was grinning.

“And you wouldn’t happen to have a pair of oxfords I could borrow for one evening?”

“I may just do. Come on.” Greg followed Mycroft past his own door and to the stairs again.

“So… why did you move up here then?” Greg asked.

“The view from my kitchen window is beautiful. Really quite breathtaking, if I’m honest.”

‘Not too bad from down here, either’ Greg thought, as his shoe sponsor for the evening walked up the stairs, the fabric of his trousers tightening over quite a well-shaped behind.

‘Not too bad at all.’

**Author's Note:**

> After a long discussion, I and Jack agreed to let me post my writing without argument, so now they're on Ao3 for posterity :)


End file.
